Grace under slander

This morning saw the resurrection of my 15 year old self. For those of you who never had the pleasure; she was a brash, fearsome and opinionated. She rarely took a breath and if you found her somewhere other than atop her soap-box you took a photo to preserve the memory.

I was living the illusion that the 15 year old me was safely living in old photo albums and dusty boxes of mementos. So needless to say her appearance this morning took me by surprise. The most shocking part was how simple it was to provoke her. Facebook, bloody Facebook! Trust a social media to ignite the socially awkward, chubby over achiever in me.

The rousing of the dead went like this: I awoke and, as usual, checked my Facebook, Gmail and Twitter. But this morning my face flushed, my stomach turned to lead; genuine teenage angst flooded my veins. The comment spoke to the deepest fears of my youthful self. A single petty comment from someone I haven’t spoken to in a decade took the bounce from my step and replaced it with the dragging feet of impending embarrassment.

The 15 year old in me wanted to respond with an equally below the belt wall-to-wall comment laden with spite and malice. The more compassionate 21 year old in me voted for Direct Messaging the person and asking what insecurity inspired such pettiness. It took me a deep breath and a minute or so for my current incarnation to take centre stage. When she did I got clear. My lessons:

• The world is getting smaller, our networks are getting bigger and off-hand comments now reach more than the 2 or 3 girlfriends they used to; they reach the world, they are recorded on the web forever.
• Not everyone will like me, not everybody should like me. If everybody likes me I am not living my truth, because personal truth lived with passion is bound to rub someone the wrong way.
• Most of all it’s none of my business what other people think of me.

So my eventual reaction once my 15 and 21 year old selves were safely back in their boxes? The graceful path; I did nothing. Other than this blog.

Please note: I wrote this blog months ago and held it back, for obvious reasons.

Big Yellow Taxi

After a (minor) melt down Saturday morning (There is only so much of a teething baby one I can take without a break) my loving and supportive partner took the darling little bundle on some errands while I went for a coffee.

I chose a quiet corner of Gloria Jeans and let up my laptop, note pad and coffee. Not 5 minutes later 4 girls arrived and sat across from me. All of a sudden the corner was not so quiet. For the most part I ignored them and got on with my work. An hour and a half later, when my concentration was waning and they were loudly singing to “Big Yellow Taxi”, I surrendered and began to observe them.

They piqued my attention because I sang that song, the original version which I am sure they don’t know exists, when I was around their age. Looking at them they are strikingly similar to my teenage friendship group; loud, obnoxious, all front, terribly insecure and they feel totally adult.

Surprisingly I find these girls very comforting; they are living reminders of how far I’ve come in the past decade. On the other hand the scene saddens me a little.

Their outfits were carefully constructed to appear casual, their make-up applied to look natural,  their laughter was forced & fake, the bravado false, they never really made eye contact, even with each other, & the body language was defensive and fidgety even amognst the obviously familiar company. Is this just indicative of the experience of a teenager or are our young girls trying to embody what they are inherently not ready for? Womanhood.

I discussed the experience with a close girlfriend of mine (we will call her Elle) on the weekend and she had a similar reaction. We both acutely remember the insecurity, inadequacy, the feeling of not quite fitting in with even your best friends & thinking that you are the only one who feels that way. Both Elle and I remember not having any clear role-models and the scarcity of information to help us navigate our own inner landscape.

So is the mix of comfort and sadness I feel just a product of my inner dichotomies or is it a reflection of something deeper? I’m not sure. Part of me (my dichotomies again) thinks that if we have outstanding role models for young girls and a medium for girls to access them, then the teenage journey may be less daunting. On the other hand perhaps the awkwardness of our youth has made us the women we are today.

Maybe I am only remembering the less than fun parts of my teenage years and forgetting all the fun I had.

Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.” – Big Yellow Taxi
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